Requiem to the Victor
by Bouddica
Summary: Silly Districts the Capitol's favorite game is war. Your move Mockingjay, still feeling hungry? AU in true dystopian style.


**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games big surprise.**

**Just a little warning this is the Hunger Games in pure dramatic gothic dystopia. Expect the worst possible case for humankind. Oh and death, lots of death.**

August 12th-District Day

Sixteen Years after the Rebellion

There's blood everywhere, that's the first thing she notices. Deep red liquid pooling at her feet and soaking into the beautiful pearl shoes.

"Katniss." A smooth hiss from above her. She is too lost to look up, the smell of blood is familiar, comforting even.

_How many times has blood been my salvation?_

"Katniss." The hiss again, the patronizing tone that means she is about to be toyed with or scolded, maybe hopefully if she is lucky, silenced once and for all in some last dramatic season finale.

"Katniss Everdeen." She can hear the sound of his shiny "dress shoes" on the marble. "Girl on Fire." He mocks.

But she is watching (feeling) the red drip and fall off her body, red tears rolling down her wrists and dripping to the floor.

"Look up." She looks up into_ his_ face and he is smiling. "I must say darling out of all the Everdeen's you are my favorite." His long fingers start to curl up and with it his palms follow till he is clapping. Applause echoing off the walls vibrating through the cathedral ceiling, sending chills down her spine.

He mouths four words, silently under his breath, too soft for the camera but she can see his lips moving under the glow of the lanterns.

_You are my masterpiece._

That is when the cameras buzz around her, the ugly little machines spinning and twirling around the room trying to get the best angle to view the scene.

_Gorge yourselves_. That small voice in the back of her head hisses, the one that speaks in _his_ voice, the one the keeps the others back. But she admits defeat as a camera rolls in front of her.

Blinded, hurt-everywhere. She sees him in the background, always in the shadows. He doesn't have to speak to tell her what to say.

_I AM KATNISS EVERDEEN._

She wants to be like Prim. She wants to be strong, and brave and most importantly she wants to be free. These are her dark desires.

_I AM KATNISS EVERDEEN._

The camera rolls up above her down with the shot and she stands there making the mistake to looking into his eyes.

_I AM KATNISS EVERDEEN._

She breaks. It's nothing dramatic, she doesn't faint, or die. Or scream and cry. She just becomes.

I AM KATNISS EVERDEEN.

Her legs start to drop down and down. Till she's on the floor. She wants to focus on her dress, the white glossy fabric absorbing up all the blood as all the many layers puddle around her like a nest of white silk. She is dead.

I AM KATNISS EVERDEEN.

Katniss Everdeen bows her head and takes a breath.

Katniss Everdeen reaches out her arms, slowly shakily toward one of_ them _(him).

Katniss Everdeen starts to cry, at first it is just a tear slipping down her cheek, slowly dripping down and mixing with the blood in her dress. Then when her fingers touch the soft satin of the body's shirt, she starts to sob. Her body lurching forward, her hands scooping up the dead boy, the one she doesn't want to think about lying there a silver arrow sticking out of his chest. But Katniss Everdeen is sobbing curling up around his frame. Her left hand's fingers stoking his cheek is if it will make him come back. As if it even matters.

_Is this your glorious death my love?_

_Is this your statement to the masses?_

Those are her last words to him, the questions she has always wanted to ask. But she has never had the courage while he had enough to die from. Katniss Everdeen on the other hand is weeping over her lost husband. The cameras swirl around her. Katniss Everdeen leans her forehead against his own cold one, somewhere in the room she knows he is watching, mouthing the words;

Masterpiece.

Masterpiece.

Katniss Everdeen sobs for seven minutes. She knows because she has counted. Kissed him again and agian, gently and softly, whispered in his ear.

"I'm sorry."

"So sorry."

"Forgive me."

"Please forgive my sins my love."

Her fingers are knotted into his blonde hair and her eyes are red and puffy by the time she feels his cold hand on her shoulder.

"You have done well, _Katniss_." His mocking tone echoes her mantra in her mind.

_I KATNISS EVERDEEN._

Katniss cries for her love. She slides her fingers out of his hair and lets his cold lifeless head drop to the floor. Not looking at his slowly stiffening body she rises. It is no matter she will watch it over and over tomorrow, and the next day. Whenever he feels like reminding her of her sins. She doesn't even look at the others._ That_ is too much.

She turns and he is standing right in front of her. A rare moment of physical closeness. His hands smooth out the silk of her dress.

"You will have all of Panem crying over the death of your beloved husband." He smiles and tilts his head ever so slightly a look of mock grief passing over his features. "How sad it must be to lose your one true love." She recoils inwardly as he stokes her cheek. It stings physically, the distant knotted up feeling someone told her was called guilt or hate she can't remember.

_My one love._ A voice whispers in her head softly, memories foggy and faded play out in her mind. They burn. Oh how she hates mental pain. Loss, love, hate and anger. Those are the wounds that can't be healed and she is powerless to stop them. In that way she likes to think she is like Katniss. They both at their emotions.

"I am Katniss Everdeen." She says hollowly. He smiles.

"By far my favorite. In fact I think you're better than the original." She can't help but take a sharp breath out on that one. She turns her back to him in a desperate attempt to look anywhere but_ his_ eyes and that's when she looks down. Not at the blood or her dress but at the bodies.

_Them._

Lying there motionless and still. At him, her husband. The bravest man in the whole world, dead and he is lying with his arm stretched out to another, his body twisted from her previous show and yet his arm still remains out stretched.

She dares to let her eyes follow the arm. He is holding another. Together their hands embrace for ever caught up in that last moment, where they gladly abandoned her and gave up.

_No__,__ they won._ She whispers. _You may be the victor but they won. You are lost._ She wants to both kiss their hands and rip them apart at the same time. As if it is possible to rejoice and scream all at once. She can even see their rings. It's a dull sort of metal, but it still gleams in the light.

She is handed her bow and in her ear she can hear him whisper.

"Release us mockingjay." The cold metal and elegant curves, the thin perfect string. Instinctively her fingers wrap around it and she tears her eyes from the two hands and their rings of love. She slowly tilts her head down to look at the weapon in her hands. Katniss's hands would shake. She is sure of it. But hers are steady, fingers only wrapping around tighter. That is when she cries. Not Katniss, but _her_. A single tear dripping down her cheek.

For _her _loss.

For _her_ family,

"Have I won?" She doesn't mean for him to hear it. She doesn't even really notice that he is still here. But she can hear him turn around to look at her.

His face is actually clouded at the moment. It is some emotion she just hasn't heard of yet.

"It depends." His words are too soft for her to recognize him. Slowly as if pulled he starts to walk. Step after step until he is at the foot of the magnificent marble stairs. His black suit contrasting against the stark white. "For one to win anything you have to lose something." Unceremoniously he turns his back to her. His fingers playing with his watch as his back shudders.

She hates. Herself, Katniss Everdeen. The Capitol. She hates them all and it is a strong intense sort of passion. Cultivated by time and with effort.

"But I lost the things that matter the most." Her words are so bitter, so angry, so un-Katniss and so _her_ that he stops shaking and his back is stiff.

"My dear we are all losers in this game." An arrow is drawn in a matter of seconds moving from the sheath on her back to the back of his head. It is silent and he is silenced. She is envious.

She drops down, the bow hitting the marble and she falling right beside them. Her hands enclosing the dead lovers' palms. Her tears sting, her sobs echo and she is alone.

He lies dead on the base of the stairs, fresh blood oozing over the white marble filling the whole room with a fresh sent.

The capitol televisions hum tonight. Replaying their beloved Katniss Everdeen crying over Peeta Mellark. A special marathon runs for twelve days, showing the "greatest love story ever told". The people of the capitol cry, and laugh and are mildly amused. Not enough blood for their tastes.


End file.
